P&P: Abbreviated and Unfabricated
by Marshie12
Summary: This is what I like to call a quickie. A very short story set out with only one goal in mind... ok nevermind. Make that no goals in mind. A just for fun story and parody. The tale of Carly and Danny. Completely finished!
1. Short

_This is a very short story. I'm thinking like ten short chapters all through Carly's POV. I consider it as a tiny little something to make the days go faster and my pent up energy to escape. I'm having so much word flow right ow that I can't even write. How oddly reversed is that?!_

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_A Brief Prologue _

Ok. So, I know what you're thinking. "It was a great book, Carly, but it was _fictional_!"

Well, dear Reader, that isn't exactly true. Pride and Prejudice is in fact a _great_ book; one of my favorites. I've seen the movies (Hel_lo_ Colin Firth); I've followed the modern versions (Colin Firth? You're here _again_?); I even bothered to sit through the butchered tale as performed by my old high school drama department; and all the while there was one truth universally acknowledged: Darcy is hot! (Colin, you _totally_ do him justice!)

I'd always loved his brooding dark temperament (comparable to the sexy Harry Potter), his financial stability, and, most of all, his knight-in-shining-armor rescue of the fair Elizabeth's family name. Darcy is amazing. The perfect man. I always had this theory that Jane Austen dissected all of her favorite qualities in men and saved them all for Darcy. He's faulted, and he's so perfect at the same time.

If you asked any girl on a New York street if they'd take a Darcy, I'd bet my left arm they'd all say yes. He's the epitome of what a girl wants, what she can't resist.

Unfortunately for Darcy, and men like him everywhere, he is the perfect man (here's the key) in _disguise_. At first, you'd never even know he was a Darcy. At first, all Darcy's are just plain old ass holes because they haven't had a chance to show the world (predominately, their leading-Lizzy) how great they are. How truly _Darcy_ they are.

That was true of Danny. Danny was an egocentric, nihilist with a God-complex, and, _unfortunately_… my boss (or at least one of them). He was an ass-hole. A Prick. A thumb-sucking, but sadly orphaned, Mama's boy with chicken-scratch handwriting and horrible filing techniques. But Danny also just happened to secretly be (way, way underneath all that other crap) a Darcy.

Which brings me to my (freakishly round-about) point: Pride and Prejudice is a great book and, with me- Carly Spence- as testament, hardly deserving of the word "_fictional._" And so, dear Reader, I bring you the tale of (the amazing) Carly and her Darcy… I mean _Danny_. (Woops. I should _really_ stop doing that.)


	2. Part

_Heh. This is supposed to be kind of parody-ish. I'm just having a bit of fun. It's a P&P with another storyline thrown in. I may have lied about the number of chapters, but they will all be shorties (like this one) that are less than 1000 words._

_This story is going to seem very different than my normal style. That's because it is a comedy, and comedies are my true love. I, unfortunately, haven't written one in a long time but I figured I should get back to my roots._

* * *

_**Pride and Prejudice: Abbreviated and Un-fabricated**_

_A short first chapter that's hardly long enough to be considered a chapter and so will thereby henceforth be dubbed a "part"_

"Her résumé is tolerable, but not reasonable enough to tempt me."

I had to suppress a chuckle. Did he honestly say that?

"Did you honestly say that?" Adam Shuster asked with raised eyebrows and once again I was chuckle suppressing. They both, Adam and the dark-haired one, look at me and stared. Oops. I should really work on my chuckle-suppressing. Turns out, I'm dreadful at it.

Adam smiled back and let out a lighthearted giggle of his own; I loved Adam already for the mere fact that he giggles like a six year old girl with pig-tails and a stuffed animal named "Professor Wallace Tremor III" (equipped with a British accent). The dark haired one stared at me murderously. He seemed quite miffed; perhaps because I forgot to include "has a tendency to chuckle at inappropriate times" on my "tolerable" résumé.

Adam leaned closer to the "dark side" (a.k.a Danny Dardy) and tried to speak in a muffled voice. Don't they know that "muffled voices" hardly live up to their name? (Duh! That's why J.K. Rowling invented the _muffliato_ charm.) And that I could hear every word they said?

"I like her. She seems fun." Adam protested.

Danny was a bit harder to understand. I caught the words, "hardly," "teddy-bear," and "unqualified." I kind of smiled and spent the next thirty-six seconds wondering how the word "teddy-bear" snuck in there. Perhaps the scary Danny had said I was "as cuddly as a teddy-bear," or "as snug-able as a teddy-bear." Nah, that hardly seems plausible. "Snug-able" isn't even a word. "Snog-able" is, I think. "Snack-able?" "Shag-able?" "Stagger-able?"

"Danny!" Adam is almost as good as whining like a six year old girl with pig-tails and a stuffed animal named "Professor Wallace Tremor III" (equipped with a British accent), as he is at giggling like one. "You picked our last secretary! I get to choose this one!"

This time I caught the words: "separate," "two," "secretaries," and "slick-able;" although it's quite possible I imagined at least one of those words. "Sing-able?" "Sting-able?" "A ring-ring-ring-able?" By this point I'd accidentally un-suppressed another chuckle and they were both looking at me again.

It was but two seconds later that Adam was shaking my hand vigorously and proclaiming that I had the job while conspicuously avoiding the eye contact of his brooding partner. (No. Not _life_-partner. Although… it _is_ a funny thought.) I was almost as excited by this idea as Adam seemed. After all, it's not everyday that a girl gets hired to be the secretary for two of the partners in a company that is known for doing absolutely nothing. Dardy and Co.? Ha! More like Dodgy and Co.!

"When do I start?" I asked with a triumphant smile. This was a fairly coveted job and, even though I knew it was a ridiculously menial occupation, I was excited about beating the three other girls that had applied.

Danny glared daggers at me. One punctured my eye and caused me to go temporarily blind, but I recovered quickly.

"What's today?" Adam looked at his watch. "How about tomorrow?" I found this action a bit odd. Who checks their watch for the date? Very suspicious…

"Are you absolutely mad?" Danny was speaking again, but for some reason it was still in a muffled voice and I'd really only heard the words, "you" and "mad." In truth, the rest was embellishment.

Adam nodded once. "Of course!" he said to his best friend. "When have I never not been wrong?" The triple negative threw me for a loop. As did the door closing that happened just a few seconds after Adam's statement. Talk about a face-breaking clue that my meeting was over… or perhaps Adam had merely forgotten I was there. This seemed quite likely.

"The girl's an absolute, but bloody brilliant, lunatic!" I heard Danny's muffled voice through the, obviously, horribly insulated walls. Or at least I heard part of that. I threw in a few choice words where I felt they were needed.

"Good!" Even through the wall, Adam's voice was as cheery and loud as ever. "She'll fit in well here then!"


	3. Sliver

_Thus far into the story I have gotten some interesting responses. First off I've been told my characters are a bit crazy. This is wholly true. They are crazy. Trust me it only gets worse. (And by the way "Dardy" is how I wanted it. 'Tis a parody.)_

_I've been told it's absolutely nothing like other things up here. I've even been told it was really bad and I should just stop. In truth this is a bit of what I'm going for (not the stopping part. I think that was a bit harsh.) I wanted it to be different and lighthearted. It's just supposed to be fun and silly so you have to go into it with a bit of an open mind and it should preferrably be read at three in the morning because those are the conditions in which it is written. (And let me tell you, at three am it is hilarious.)_

_Anyway. Here is another chapter of mindless, randomness. If you laugh at least once, I'm happy. If you read it and still think I'm crazy, then stop reading it. I won't be offended. You can not like it. That's fine. Go read a different story._

* * *

**_Pride and Prejudice: Abbreviated and Un-fabricated_**

_This chapter is even briefer than a slice of life and so we must therefore call it a "sliver of life"_

Over the next few weeks I got to know my bosses pretty well. I picked up on the minute idiosyncrasies and idiotic moments. For instance, I learned that if you give Adam a lemon in his water, he'll cut the lemon to resemble a horrible set of teeth and wear it around in his mouth all day. I also learned that if you let him hold anything when you know that Sarah Golden (the office Golden Girl) will be passing by, he'll get so distracted he'll drop it. (This I learned the hard way. Adam dropped my cell-pone into a fish tank. I'm not sure how…)

I learned things about Danny too. Remember his muffled voice? Yep, that, as fate should have it, is his real voice. He just mutters a lot, but the good thing is I'm starting to understand more of what he says everyday and I still maintain that he _said_ he wanted his desk filled with toffee. Also he tends to get annoyed very easily. I've created this little competition with Sarah Golden (the office Golden Girl) to see who can get him riled up the fastest. I'm the undefeated champion, but mostly because Sarah is too nice to purposely anger someone. (She _is_ rather good at cheesy seductions though, but _that's_ a different story.)

Anyway, I was in the midst of my standard daily annoyance of Danny. I had recently taken to carrying around a clipboard, calling myself Betsy, and wearing glasses to make me look intelligent (minus the lenses. They hurt my eyes so I had to take them out. I feel the effect is still the same.)

"…Carly." He'd said something before this that I couldn't understand. I hoped it was nothing important, then imagined it to be something simple like, "How are you today, Carly?" Then I accidentally replied out loud, "I'm good. How are you?"

Danny looked at me funny. Five seconds later I remembered that that wasn't what Danny had said. Not because I'd heard him, but because Danny never asks friendly questions. But Danny had also quickly learned to ignore me at times like these. "Just make sure you send that letter to the Ambassador and I need a copy of Hansel and Gretel on my desk as soon as you can get it."

"Han Solo, got it," I said brightly in contrast with his dark tone and scribbled on my clipboard. I didn't write "Han Solo." I wrote rubber-ducky. It seemed much more relevant.

"No _Hansel_, Carly! I don't want Star Wars! I want Hansel and Gretel."

"Oh right! Sorry Danstinator," I said with a bright smile. All I did to my clip board was stab it once with my pen. Danny looked right pissed that I didn't have more to fix on the clip board. I still thought "rubber-ducky" covered it all, but "rubber-ducky" with a period after it seemed fine too.

"Carly, that clip board had better say the words Hansel and Gretel on it," he warned and I tucked my clip board out of sight then shoved my pen behind my ear.

"You have no control on my note taking process, you evil dictator!" I shouted. "And Betsy thinks that my clipboard is _just fine_ without your supervision." In truth, it was quite beautiful. We'd had a meeting earlier regarding the existence of dragons and during it I decorated all my paper so they have these awesome twisty borders around the edge and one now reads "Danny Dardy is a freak from Lithuania!" Betsy thought it was very pretty and I must say I had to agree.

For some reason Danny hated the whole "Betsy" thing. This of course was reason enough for me to get really into the idea. I'd even covered my nameplate on my desk so it now read "Heavens to Betsy!" I'd also taken to punctuating things with exclamation marks. Danny hated exclamation marks. He said they were too fluffy. Or at least I_ think_ that's what he'd said…

Well as you can see, dear Reader, things at "work" weren't exactly "normal." Danny was a bit of a brooding psychopath that I once caught banging his head against a wall and shouting the word "Angst!" repeatedly. Adam was a soft, push-over with a crush on an employee, Sarah Golden (the office Golden Girl who now owes me twenty bucks for annoying Danny first), and also a fetish for raspberry Jell-O.

We achieved absolutely nothing throughout the day and I wondered why people came to work. I mean, we could easily have made a time-line concerning the presence of Centaurs in literature from _home_, couldn't we? Plus how was it all relevant…?

Anyway it was needless to say that me and Betsy were fitting in well here at Dardy and Co..

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_PS Oasis Blackmore. I fixed it. Good call there..._


	4. Smidge smidge

_Believe it or not, this story actually does have a plot. I'v gotten some really great responses, which is very exciting and what's great about a chapter this short is that I can write one in 15 minutes and post a lot more frequently._

_Ok. Peace out. I'm going to the beach!_

* * *

_**Pride and Prejudice: Abbreviated and Un-fabricated**_

_A tiny little short-short that we should just call a smidge-smidge_

"So, did you get the dirt yet?"

I bet you're wondering who that was. I'll give you a clue: it wasn't a potted plant that I'd promised to get some soil. No, it was my editor. Now, why does a humble, and slightly insane, secretary need an editor? A pivotal question. Gasp! The plot thickens!

"Shush," I hissed, quickly looking around my office. I had to get up from my desk and check around the corner to make sure no one had been lurking there. Adam had recently taken to standing near corners hoping to catch bits of conversation. He was a bit of a conspiracy theorist that wished he was a Hardy Boy and was now trying to solve the case of the missing Jell-O. "Someone could have heard you," I continued to hiss even after checking that the coast was clear, because sometimes I like to pretend I'm a snake.

I hissed again and waggled my tongue. Stephen, the editor, stared at me agog. The slack jawed look reminded me strangely of Larry the Six-legged Octopus (that I later discovered was a squid), my childhood imaginary friend. I giggled. Stephen managed to do an even better impersonation of Larry. Then I became sad because I remembered that Larry had died when I'd convinced him that a ride in the dryer would be the same thing as a ride in a spacecraft. Poor Larry never made it to the moon…

"Are you picturing me as Larry again?" Stephen didn't look happy about this. I think he secretly has a fear that I'm going to trick him into taking a "ride" in the dryer. I smiled evilly at him. He seemed to cringe. I knew he was scared! "Carly! We need to actually discuss some things now!"

I gave him my best exasperated look. "Why are we doing it here? Don't you know to never show your face at the scene of the crime?"

"It's not a crime, Carly. It's just a magazine article. I'm desperate to discover what these weirdos do all day. So Carly, what _do_ these weirdos do all day?" he asked excitedly. His eyes were lit up just like my poor puppy, Patrick Puppy's, eyes used to do; I say "used to" because he was also quite fond of the dryer and didn't ever make it to space either.

I shrugged. "The hell if I know. It seems to me that they do a hell of a lot of nothing."

"Nothing? No, no Carly. I assure you they're doing something."

I shrugged again. Did discussing the emotional impact the Nutcracker has on America's youth, like we'd done for our four o'clock meeting, count as something? It seemed quite odd to me. I handed him my clipboard with all my notes thus far. All it said was "rubber-ducky" but knowing Stephen, I knew he'd understand the hefty information my discovery had uncovered. He flipped the page.

"Is this true?" he asked excitedly while staring at the page in awe. "Is Dardy really a freak from Lithuania?" I grinned and nodded. So maybe the information hadn't been confirmed…. That didn't make it wrong… "We might be able to work with this…"

I didn't see where he was going with his story idea, but before I could request clarification I heard "muffled" voices. "So that's how I finally discovered that the Jell-O thief was the Hamburglar!"

"Adam, your main evidence in the case can't be a McDonald's commercial." That was Danny. Oddly enough his voice sounded quite clear. But, when he noticed me listening to their conversation a few seconds later, it became oddly muffled again.

"Carly! There you are!" Adam shouted at me excitedly. "Did you hear about my Hamburglar discovery? Sheer brilliance on my part."

"But sir. You ate the Jell-O. And doesn't the Hamburglar only steal Hamburgers?" I supplied. Secretly I thought it was somewhat plausible that the Hamburglar had stolen the Jell-O. If I hadn't seen Adam eating it with my own eyes, I would have agreed.

"Hmm." Adam rubbed his chin contemplatively, a look that seemed very foreign on his normally blank face. "That's a theory I hadn't even considered, Carly. Pure brilliance! I suppose that's why I pay you the big bucks." I laughed and shrugged in reply. This was a funny thing for him to say when just the other day he'd tried to pay me in magic beans.

I looked up to see Danny glaring darkly, as usual, but was surprised to find that Stephen was the object of his dark mutterings, and even more shocked to find Stephen returning the glare with a vengeance.

"What are you doing here, Wicki?" That was Danny. In truth all I'd really heard was: "what," "doing," and "Wicki." I loved Stephen's last name. In the past I'd considered marrying him so I could assume the name Carly Wicki. Sometimes I take the name anyway, but don't tell Stephen that.

Stephen smiled wickedly. Wicked Wicki. Haha. The thought made me laugh, which cut the tension in the room with a giant machete. Everyone stared at me. I didn't know what to do, so I did what first came to mind… I hissed like a snake and slithered out of the room.


	5. Pitty

_Hi there! I meant to post this earlier today, but I had to friggin work all day. My feet hurt, but I'm finally posting. So here you go. I think this chapter has a bit more fluff to it. The next cahpter is more plot oriented, this one's a bit of fun and stuff to hint at prospective couples._

_Ok... all you now._

_

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**_Pride and Prejudice: Abbreviated and Un-Fabricated_**

_Just a little ditty, but since it isn't set to music I will make up my own word and call it a pitty_

"We really need to focus, people," Danny mumbled to the room. Everyone else nodded in agreement, and, even though I hadn't understood what he'd said, I just joined in. This was another one of our daily office meetings in which we discuss totally pointless junk for absolutely no reason. Danny takes these to be highly important life or death situations.

"We've been at this for three hours Danny! Can't we have a break?" asked Miranda Beetch, who, ironically enough, is a pretty big bitch.

Adam stopped making googly eyes at Sarah Golden (ironically enough her skin is really golden) and looked up. "No, Danny's right. We can have a break when we make some progress."

"Well what do we have so far?" That was Sarah Golden. … Golden nugget… McNugget. Damn it, now I'm hungry!

Adam picked up the piece of paper with our combined notes from this enthralling meeting. "What makes a perfect man," he read aloud. "Miranda says he has to be good in bed, be open-minded, and own either a pair of handcuffs or a stun-gun." Everyone shot Miranda intimidated glances, but she just grinned triumphantly and displayed her wrists. They were oddly bruised… well... at least one of us is getting some.

"I'm in love." She sighed dreamily. It was rather creepy.

Adam quickly popped back in his eyes that were bugged out so far they were almost out of socket. "Sarah says her perfect man would be a fairly insane conspiracy theorist with a Jell-O obsession whose name is Adam. Adam stop reading this out loud. I'm talking about you. Adam you idiot, you _are_ my perfect man," Adam read robotically. He looked up and his face was just as blank as normal. We all blinked at him. Did he really not get it?

Suddenly Sarah stood up and ran out of the room in tears. Oops. Adam just picked back up the piece of paper.

"Carly says that her perfect man would be a rock God that likes to light his hair on fire. He should feed her well… maybe even have the ability to conjure food as if out of nowhere. Preferably candy. He should have telekinetic powers, especially the ability to teleport but she'd settle for the ability to control matter with his mind. Oh and he should have nice biceps."

I nodded. "It's true," I added as everyone looked at me. "People underestimate the biceps."

Danny took this as the perfect time to slam his head against the table… repeatedly.

"Listen, I'm kind of hungry…" I mumbled.

Danny growled and produced a bowl of caramels as if from nowhere. I smiled. It was the nicest thing he'd ever done for me. Plus, caramel is my favorite! Which reminds me… I need to do laundry.

Adam picked up the paper once again. "Danny says that his perfect man would play endless video games with him and always let him win. Oh and he'd be a chick, preferably a hot one; maybe with a very short attention span, an overactive imagination, and a deep-seeded love of caramels."

Danny blushed and mumbled something I couldn't understand, but everyone else laughed so I laughed too; but secretly I was just thinking about those luscious, soft caramels. God, those babies were sexy. _You sexy, sexy caramels. How I love thee._ I popped a couple into my mouth while no one was looking.

Adam continued to read. "I -Adam that is- said that the perfect man would make me Jell-O pops. He would have absolutely no hair on his body. He would have a luscious chest; curly, blond hair; and golden skin."

My jaw dropped, but I had so many caramels in my mouth that when my jaw dropped they all tumbled out along with a dribble of drool. I couldn't believe he'd said that. "But sir-" I began to complain as I slyly tried to sneak my wad of caramels back into my mouth.

"I know what Carly is going to say!" Miranda Beeotch… erm I mean Bitch… damn I mean Beetch; oh well, whoever she is, she interrupted. "She's going to say that you just described Sarah Golden, the office golden girl."

"Um, no I wasn't." Miranda isn't the only one who can be a bitch… I mean Beetch. "I was going to say that _you_ said your perfect man would have _absolutely_ no hair on his body, but then you said that he would have curly, blond hair. You contradicted yourself, Adam."

Danny just slammed his head against the table again.


	6. Boxer

_You know what's so funny to me? As jumbled up and random as this story is, in real life this is how your brain narrates your life. Just listen to your inner monologue sometime and realize that if other people were listening they would probably think you were insane... and yet theirs is like that too. I mean seriously, how many times have you been sitting in front of the fridge trying to decide what to eat and suddenly (!) the "Flying-Purple-People-Eater" song is stuck in your head. (It's in your head now isn't it? "One eyed one horned...") _

_It's fun. Assume that Carly is crazy. Go right on ahead, but you're a bit insane as well, just admit it! (Hells I know I am!) _

* * *

_**Pride and Prejudice: Abbreviated and Un-fabricated**_

_A brief little escapade, but for fun we're not going to call it a brief, but instead it is a boxer (because that's the kind of underwear most men prefer)_

Wicki is kind of scary when he's angry. "Why don't you have my story for me, Carly?" he asked.

I tried to think about Larry the Six Legged Octopus and how he'd want me to be strong, but then I remembered that time Larry tried to punch me in the face.(In his defense he was drunk and I was being kind of a bitch, but still, I have mental bruises... right on my heart.) So instead, I cowered. "I'm sorry?" I asked in a small voice.

Wicki glared. "If you weren't pretty, I'd fire you."

I shrugged. It's not like I didn't have another job, even if I was only pretending to have that job so I could keep this one. Sometimes I confuse myself. Either way, fake or not, I was quite good at my fake job. Not just anyone can be good at a job where they do absolutely nothing. "Please don't make me perform sexual favors," I pleaded quietly with my eyes squeezed shut so I wouldn't have to witness the sight of Wicki naked. But then, for some odd reason, I started picturing Danny dancing around naked in my mind, so I hastily opened them again.

"Carly! Would you shut up! I know you're a thousand miles out in space right now, but I need you to focus."

I looked at him sideways. From this angle he reminds me a bit of Larry, minus the six legs… er, I mean tentacles.

"Carly! Stay with me here!" He grabbed both sides of my face and forced my head to a straight angle. He no longer looked like Larry, but he did look a bit like Sid, the neighborhood mad-dog that bit Tommy Donney in fourth grade and then no one realized Tommy had rabies until he was in tenth grade. Poor Tommy. We always thought the mouth foam was just a side effect of strong mouthwash

"I can't do it!" I yelped and stood up, but Wicki still had his hands clasped to both sides of my face and he was yanked up with me. "Er… could you let go of my face? I'm trying to make an important speech here and when you press my face like that it sounds like I have my jaw wired shut."

Wicki let go.

"As I was saying," I continued rubbing my jaw. That Stephen has the grasp of a super-strong robot. "I'm not sure I can write this article. You see Stephen, these aren't bad people. Adam's a bit loony, but he's fun as hell and I've never seen anybody do the robot dance quite as well as him. And even Danny isn't horrible. He's a brooding psychopath and a bit dark, but I'm pretty sure it's just a side-effect of his troubled past. Those Lithuanians really know how to screw up their kids. Plus he gave me caramel and the other day Adam accidentally set his hair on fire, but it was wicked cool."

Wicki looked quite shocked. You think after working for the man for five years I'd have shocked him to his very core, but it turns out there was even more of Stephen to shock. "Carly." Uh-oh I knew that voice. That was the "Carly you're so naive, but it's okay because you have me to explain things to you" voice. I hated that voice.

"First off, Adam is not 'a bit' loony. Adam is the result of what happens when you take LSD for an entire decade of your life. Adam is insane beyond compare."

I opened my mouth to protest, but Wicki had more to say so I sat there for a couple of minutes opening and closing my mouth, pretending I was a goldfish, while he spoke.

"And Danny is not the result of a trouble youth. He's not even from Lithuania! He's the result of ass-holiness," Stephen said in complete seriousness. I would have giggled at the use of the word "ass-holiness" but I was in full-out goldfish mode and goldfish don't giggle… to my knowledge at least. (Hmm maybe we should have a meeting to discuss that at work tomorrow. Giggling goldfish… interesting.) "Danny is a plain old jerk. He ruined my life! Remember the whole magazine article thing? Oh C'mon Carly. We were in college and we were both working on the student newspaper and he stole my story! That jerk stole my story!" Wicki was turning purple and becoming inflated from anger. Then he suddenly seemed to pop like a balloon and he wasn't angry anymore. "Now does that sound like something a nice person would do, Carly?" he asked in an overly-passive voice.

I just opened my mouth again and closed it. God, I love being a goldfish.


	7. Slits

_This is dedicated to whatever bastard came up with the slogan "Have a happy period." It had to have been a guy because no woman is that naive._

_**Pride and Prejudice: Abbreviated and Un-fabricated**_

_How about we call this one a slit, for the slits in my eyes because that is all I can manage to keep open. Yeah, I'm a bit tired._

_Boingy-boingy_!

I punched my desk with great force, but my hand hit its pillowy surface with ease and I smiled. Danny Dardy watched me with one eye while he pretended to focus on whatever paperwork he was reading. I don't know why, but Danny had taken to sitting in the receptionist area near my desk while he worked. I was considering asking him if would prefer that we switch spaces, I'd be willing to take his office if he didn't want it.

"Carly," he asked across the room, but he was still pretending to read his file. "Why is your desk covered in Maxi Pads?" He blushed at the use of the words "Maxi Pads." What is it with men and the subject of periods?

I looked at him with a smile. "Danny. Why is your head covered in hair?"

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"Exactly!" I punched my desk again in triumph, but I missed the space covered in Maxi Pads and hit the hard wooden surface. I yelped in pain as I looked at my poor fingers.

"Nice one," Danny teased, finally abandoning his file and rolling his sweet rolly-chair over to me. He held out his hands for me. I didn't know what he expected me to do, so I stuck a Maxi Pad right onto the middle of his palm. "Carly, I meant for you to give me your hand."

He unstuck the Maxi Pad and stuck it onto my desk. I was kind of upset; he'd ruined the smiley-faced design I had created. I showed him my hand. He dropped it; it fell lifelessly and landed on his thigh… his upper thigh!

It took me a grand total of forty-nine seconds to move my hand. (Hell it took me forty-nine seconds to remember I even _had_ hands!) Have you ever spent forty-nine seconds with your hand on your slightly (plus a bit more) sexy boss's thigh? (Although, you probably have...)It was the longest forty-nine seconds of my life.

"Err," Danny coughed awkwardly. "I meant your other hand. The one you'd hurt."

I looked at him in wonderment. I'd hurt my hand? I didn't remember that… But then again I hardly remembered anything that happened prior to those forty-nine seconds. It was like my life had been split in two: pre forty-nine seconds and post forty-nine seconds. "My hand?" I asked…. and, speaking of which, my hand was still on Danny's thigh… his upper thigh. I finally pulled it back and beheld it as if it'd been burned.

It was quiet a very long time. In fact it was quiet for exactly thirty-six seconds. Have you ever had thirty-six seconds of awkward silence with your boss directly after another awkward forty-nine seconds where you had your hand on his upper-thigh? It was the longest thirty-six seconds, post forty-nine seconds of my life.

"Hey Danny, how come you don't mumble anymore?" I asked the first question that came to mind. Ok, maybe it was the second, but I dared not ask the first because that was of reference to the forty-nine seconds I'd just spent with my hand on his upper thigh.

"I don't mumble," he said, quite clearly, as he grabbed my hand to make sure I hadn't hurt it when I'd punched my desk. He took each finger in turn and bent them several times to make sure I maintained movement. I didn't think it'd be relevant to tell him that it was the other that had punched the desk and he was examining the mutinous thigh-touching hand. "You probably just couldn't hear me right."

I jumped and pulled my hand away in slight anger. "That's a lie!" I snapped. "I have ears like a fox!"

Danny furrowed his dark eyebrows together. He had nice eyebrows. I decided to name the left one Timmy and the right one Tommy. But is that from my left or his…? "Carly, you're not like most girls are you?"

I shrugged. "I don't know Most Girls. Is that some sort of club or something? I hope I'm not like a club, Danny. Wouldn't it be a bit weird? I mean clubs are really just buildings, and if I were a building it'd be even weirder that they'd named the building Carly. I mean who names buildings? And even if they had named the building, _why_ Carly? If I ever named a building I'd name it Sunny because then I feel it would bring joy to more people's lives."

Danny mumbled something. All I caught were the words: "interesting," "oddly," "fluffy," and "Suzanna."

I jumped to my feet and pointed an accusing finger at Danny. "Ha!" I shouted in triumph, "I told you, you mumbled!" I slammed my hand on my desk thinking I would hit a Maxi Pad.

Damn. I missed again…


	8. Dlot

_Hi! Sorry it's been so long. I just haven't had much inspiration and I figured it was best not to push it. Ok well, it's back!_

… _So who here read Harry Potter?!_

**This one's for my brother, who has always wanted a double-barreled-water-balloon-shooter of his own and also inspired this chapter.**

_**Pride and Prejudice: Abbreviate and Un-fabricated**_

_This is a dastardly combination of plot-devices. Since they are so dastardly we shall call them "dlots" for "dreadful" and "plots"_

"To my dearest Stephen. Here's your damn article. I purposely spelled words wrong just to thwart you in hopes that your face would turn that lovely shade of purple I enjoy so much. Ok. I've officially converted to the Dark Side, Darth. Does this mean I get a raise? Love Carly."

My hand hovered over the "send" button. Oh God! If I sent this, it would be one of the last things I did as Dardy and Co. employee. Ironically enough, it would also be one of the first things I did as a Dardy and Co. employee. I laughed at the thought of being upset over losing a job where I did absolutely nothing but discuss the emotional implications of fortune cookies like we'd done this morning in our meeting. In a heave of laugher I contorted and accidentally clicked my mouse, which was still hovering over the "send" button, causing me to send my e-mail and along with it my article. But I was still laughing so hard that I had yet to notice.

Suddenly, I was pelted in the head by a water balloon while another one hit my desk and knocked over a picture of me and my imaginary boyfriend Trevor. The glass cracked and Trevor's face is obscured now, but that was the least of my concerns at the moment.

"What was that?" I asked looking up at Adam.

"You were just attacked by my double-barreled-water-balloon-shooter," he replied proudly holding up his weapon of choice with a wide-mouthed grin.

I turned my head to the side. Adam's double-barreled-water-balloon-shooter looked precariously like a black lacy bra, but I dared not say that out loud for fear that Adam would tell the tale of how he obtained his double-barreled-water-balloon-shooter that was actually a bra. "What's in these balloons?" I asked just noticing the icky brown goo all over my desk and splattered against the wall behind me. Luckily, there was none on my hair.

Adam smiled again and stuck his finger in the goo. "It's pudding. I couldn't find water."

"You do know it comes out of the sink, don't you?" I asked, also taking a finger-full of goo.

"Is that the silver stick? Yeah I took that off to use as a telescope during our pirate re-enactment for yesterday's meeting."

"Hmm," I muttered through the goo. "This is good."

"You like? It's raspberry flavor," Adam replied as he began to lick the wall in hopes of getting more goo.

Just as Adam said this, Danny Dardy appeared in my area. Danny Dardy seems to appear in my area quite a bit and I would have voiced this opinion had my mouth not been glued shut by goo. "Please tell me that's something edible and not what it looks like," Danny muttered with morbid curiosity at the scene.

Adam quickly stopped licking my wall and shot his double-barreled-water-balloon-shooter at Danny with a whoop of excitement almost like a battle cry. Danny's balloons didn't pop so he picked one up and squeezed it with his left hand while Adam shouted, "You just got attacked by my double-barreled-water-balloon-shooter!"

Danny rolled his eyes and bit the balloon just enough that he could suck out some pudding. "Do they even make raspberry flavored pudding?" he asked as he took another squeeze and winced at the after-taste.

Adam shrugged. Odd that he didn't seem to know considering that he was, hopefully, the one that'd made it.

I picked up Danny's other balloon that had hit the wall behind Danny and rolled back to nestle against my chair all without breaking. "I'm wondering why it's called a double-barreled-water-balloon-shooter, when it really shoots pudding balloons. Shouldn't it be a double-barreled-pudding-balloon-shooter?"

Danny looked impressed, as if I actually had a point and my gibberish was finally making sense, but Adam hadn't heard my ponderings. He was distracted by Sarah Golden who had just wondered into my area clutching her chest rather uncomfortably and blushing like mad. "Adam," she hissed, "that's not a toy. Give it back."

Danny and my eyes grew wide. Adam just smiled wickedly and loaded up his double-barreled-water-balloon-shooter. He aimed right at Sarah and smiled, but before he could fire Sarah clutched her chest tighter and cried, "That's my bra you thieving prick and if you don't give it back I'll make sure you never get to second base again." Then she ran quickly out of the room.

Adam followed closely in her wake, not to console her or return her double-barreled-water-balloon-shooter, but because he'd never gotten to fire his double-barreled-water-balloon-shooter and he never lets a target go free. Danny's eyes met mine and for the very first time ever, Danny Dardy laughed.

I would have laughed with him, but I'd only just realized that I'd accidentally sent my article to Stephen… Uh. Oh.


	9. longest

This is the part where the scant plot develops a bit. It's longer than usual, but not very funny. Sorry I needed a couple of slightly serious chapters.

* * *

**_Pride and Prejudice: Abbreviated and U-fabricated_**

_This is a bit longer than most. In fact it is safe t say it will be my longest chapter for this story. We will call it the "longest"_

It was another week before my story hit stands. I hadn't actually seen it yet, but Stephen had called me the night before to tell me how excited he was about the piece and that it would probably hit tomorrow. I told him that I'd like to hit _him_ tomorrow. He took that to be some sort of freaky pick-up line.

"What the hell is this?" Danny Dardy sounded really angry as he slammed the magazine on my desk.

"Yeah. What the hell is this?" Adam was following closely in Danny's wake and slammed his hand against the magazine just as Danny had done.

My lip may have quivered a millimeter but I refuse to acknowledge that I was scared. "It's a magazine," I replied nonchalantly. "Have you never heard of them?"

"Don't be smart with me!" Danny commanded.

"Yeah. You are not smart!" Adam shouted likewise. I don't think he really understood what he was saying because a moment later his face creased in confusion and he melted into the crowd that was forming around my desk area.

"Fine," I shot back steadily, standing and crossing my arms over my chest to appear more intimidating, but also because I'd popped off a button on my way to work this morning and my double-barreled-water-balloon-shooter was clearly visible. "It's and exposé that I wrote about your sketchy little company."

"Sketchy little company?" Danny echoed back. "Do you not even have a clue what we do here?" he asked numbly.

Just then Miranda Beetch raised her hand and shouted, "I'm a bit confused on that as well, Danny. What exactly _do_ we do here?"

Danny turned purple. "That's beside the point! The point is that Carly has sold us all out!" Danny picked up the magazine he'd slammed down; spent about twenty minutes searching for the correct passage while I idly filed my nails and Adam started passing out buckets of popcorn to the crowd (that consisted of more people than the number that work in our office) as they awaited the show; and finally read some choice quotes. "'Dardy and Co is a useless institution that serves absolutely no purpose to the general public. They should change their name to Dodgy and Co.' 'Dardy and Co. is a waste of their contributor's funds. Anyone with a vested interest in this company should pull out now and invest their time and money in a company of some purpose.'"

"That's outrageous!" Adam shouted through a mouthful of popcorn. After his outburst there was a very long and drawn out pause. It was such a long pause that I was tempted to shout something to the like of, "I once groped Danny's upper thigh!" but was saved from such a display by Adam who said eventually, "What exactly does that mean again Danny?"

"It means that Carly has just told all of our investors that they shouldn't support us." Danny was addressing the gathered crowd but his eyes were steel cold and burning right into mine… or possibly through the gaping hole in the front of my shirt. "It means that you could all lose your jobs, thanks to Carly."

"That's a bit of an overstatement," I shouted finally rushing to my own defense. This is why I need a telekinetic boyfriend, so that he can feel my distress from miles away and teleport to my rescue. "This place has no purpose. Even if everyone lost their jobs it wouldn't be so bad. At least they could find occupations better suited for their efforts. I mean, this place is a madhouse! Adam is always running around causing more trouble than he fixes and you're bit of a brooding psychopath that wouldn't even care if everyone lost their jobs. In fact, you'd probably much prefer the solitude."

"You think I wouldn't care? Just because I'm not a permanent smiley-face like you, doesn't mean I don't like being here." Danny snorted. "You my think that I don't give a damn, but at least I don't go around pretending I like my job when I don't; at least I don't go around making my boss like me, grope his upper thigh, and then write an article about how I think he's…" Danny picked up the magazine and found another quote, "'an insufferable man from Lithuania'- I'm not even from Lithuania!"

"I didn't _make_ anyone like me-" I protested, but Danny cut me off.

"You made _me_ like you!"

This statement just happened to come right before another one of those awkward silences. Luckily, it was my turn to break the silence. "Well I didn't ask you to! I would never like you! You were mean to Stephen in college and you stole his article. Plus you're not even telekinetic… although Adam did once set you hair on fire and that _was_ pretty wicked."

Danny readjusted his jacket and clenched his jaw, trying to recompose himself, but the entire office (and some unknown people that weren't even a part of our office) was staring at him with slack jaws. If singularly I was a goldfish, together we were so big a school of goldfish that we could start our own Goldfish University… I would _so_ go to a Goldfish University. "I-I now have to go spend the rest of the week convincing our sponsors not to pull out of our company because I, unlike s_ome people_, actually know the meaning of responsibility and what it takes to be a good person. I'm not some horrible, company ruining vixen."

Adam quickly followed him into his office and I could hear, very un-muffled, through the paper-thin walls when Adam said, "That was a bit harsh."

Danny had looked so cold and scary that I suddenly found that my eyes were leaking. They were spraying out like sprinklers, like a hole in the Hoover Dam or… or some other waterworks simile that says I was crying. I was crying… a lot. I was crying and sobbing so loudly that I'm sure I was audible heard through the walls. So Sarah Golden led me off to her tiny cubicle that smelled like raspberry Jell-O and had pictures of Adam all over the walls. But I didn't really notice. I was crying as hard as I had the day Larry took his ride in the dryer; as hard as my mommy did the day I Sharpied a mustache on her face.

* * *

_Reviews are in short suppl this summer. Help save a dying species._


	10. kind of sort of maybe

_This chapter is the most serious one you will come by in this story. I needed some quick information from Adam and so I had to make him slightly… less Adam._

_Sorry…_

_**Pride and Prejudice: Abbreviated and Un-fabricated**_

_I don't even know what to call it. How about… a kind-of-sort-of-maybe?_

Adam was very distracted. He'd been like this ever since the day my article had hit and Danny had since spent all his time in his office on the phone with investors, only visible for the few moments before he managed to get into his office in the mornings, when he'd just pretend I wasn't there. (I wonder what Danny did when he had to pee…) Since Danny was so busy, Adam was forced to do actual work and assume all of Danny's responsibilities. This was a foreign concept for Adam and he was very distracted by it.

I know what you're thinking. You're thinking about how it's even possible that I haven't been fired yet. Don't worry; I was thinking it too. In fact it was the reason I was trying so hard to speak with such a distracted Adam. I'd tried asking him if he planned on firing me but all he'd said was, "I'll put it on my list, Danny." He didn't even realize who he was talking to. So finally I decided to schedule a meeting with him so he had time to fire me, otherwise I felt he might be so busy he'd forget.

So, I was on my way to the scheduled meeting. As I entered the office, Danny exited carrying a suitcase. It was the longest I'd seen him in days. He was slightly pale and his eyes were all dry and red. He knitted his eyebrows together and quickly passed me with his head bowed and I entered the office, not wanting to be late for my own firing.

"Hello Carly," Adam said slowly. His eyes also seemed quite red, although I knew his to be from raspberry Jell-O withdrawal. "What can I do for you?" he said. This was an ominous sign. Adam never said "What can I do for you?" it was always "What can I do you for?" or "Why are we talking when we could be making out?" although he usually only said that last one to Sarah Golden.

"Well," I cleared my throat. I was a bit nervous. I didn't want to get fired. "I just didn't want you to forget that you were supposed to fire me."

"Oh? I was?" It was possible that Adam suffered from a serious head trauma… although that's been possible since the beginning.

I nodded slowly. "Weren't you?"

Adam shrugged. "I never heard anything about it. Danny usually does the firing, but he can't face you since he made you cry and I'm much too soft for him to ever expect me to do it… so unless you want to fire yourself…"

I shook my head. "I'd prefer to not be fired at all."

"That's good because with Danny gone I'll need all the help I can get around here." Adam began clicking furiously on his computer like it was some urgent matter. Little did he know that I cold see the computer screen reflected in the window behind him and he was merely playing Solitaire.

"Danny fired himself then?" I asked casually.

"No he went to France." Adam glared at the screen. "Stupid Jack of spades," he growled under his breath. Adam without his Jell-O is a bit scary. I'd never seen him growl or glare before. He even managed to foam at the mouth when he did it. It was almost as if he was kind of Danny-ish. Was Danny only moody because of his job? This was a revelation I chose to ignore.

"Why?"

"Some sort of reference about grapes or wine or something. Danny's determined to make sure his reference is in top notch ever since the _incident_."

"Reference?" I hated being reduced to one word questions. It made Adam seem like the most intelligent person in the room… a real rarity.

"Yeah, that's what we do. We do reference information for websites. Wikipedia mostly, but other stuff as well. People want to know some random crap and we're more than happy to supply it."

"So that's what we do? We reference information?" I was a bit shocked. That wasn't shady at all. It had absolutely nothing to do with Rubber Ducks or Lithuania like my notes had suggested. Heavens to Betsy! That Betsy cow was supplying false information all along!

I was a so mad I was on my way out of my office to rip off Betsy's name tag when Adam stopped me. "And Stephen lied to you, Carly," he said calmly although he was still mouse-clicking like mad. "It was Danny's article. Stephen stole it and that's how he became a famous journalist. He stole Danny's career and just when Danny was becoming successful again, he decided to send you in to take that away as well."

I was quite shocked. Who knew Adam was capable of a real conversation… what he said, however, I chose to ignore.


	11. Potato

_Wow! You guys have waited a bit for this. It's a bit longer than I thought it'd be, so does that make up for the wait and the seriousness of the last chapter?_

_How about the fact that I hope to have another chappie up on Friday? Ha! And I'd like to have it finsied by the time I'm back at school... which is only a week away so... _

_Read on! Read until your dreams come true!_

* * *

**_Pride and Prejudice: Abbreviated and Un-fabricated _**

_Potato._

I walked into the meeting room humming a little tune and contemplating the squeaky noise my new black shoes make when I walk. I'd been doing a fair bit of shopping lately and had a whole new wardrobe picked out. Unfortunately my mood has been so bleak that most of my new clothes are plain black. So there I am, walking into the meeting room in my black clothes and heavy black eyeliner, humming the tune to "My Girl."

I had been sitting, quite complacently, in my usual chair when Miranda coughed and I looked up to notice everyone staring at me. Well… everyone except Adam, who was staring at Sarah Golden, but as soon as Miranda noticed this she kicked him under the table and his eyes snapped to me.

It was quite a disarming effect. I stopped humming right in the middle of the chorus and the only noise in the room was the squeak of my new black shoes- which are super cute, by the way!

Miranda coughed again.

"What's going on?" I asked, half eyeing them suspiciously, half eyeing my shoes. They're just so pretty I could stare at them for hours!

"An intervention." Miranda was obviously relishing in controlling the room. I gave her another four minutes before she broke out the hand cuffs and started chaining people to their chairs so she could maintain authority forever. The thought of Miranda chaining people to their desks and whipping them made me laugh, but Miranda's glare was so intense that I quickly stopped.

"Good!" I was quite excited. I'd never been to an intervention before. I turned seriously to Adam and knew exactly what I should say. "Adam," I threw a hefty amount of compassion into my voice to make sure he wasn't offended. "I know you love Jell-O, but the rampant amount of sugar is causing you to get a bit edgy… and kind of gassy. Cut back on the juice man, for all our sake!"

Adam looked quite confused… not that this was much of a difference. "I've been gassy?" he asked Sarah, the hurt evident in his voice.

"Yeah sweetie," I said. "But we'll get through this together. Once you get past the pudding withdrawal, you'll be a whole new man."

Miranda stared, quite angrily. I had another frightening image of handcuffs… except this time they were pink and fuzzy. Hmm, those would probably feel soft against my skin, but they'd clash horribly with my black monotony.

"Carly! This isn't an intervention for Adam's Jell-O addiction!" Miranda shouted eventually. She was quite domineering and had been so angered that I'd taken control of the intervention that she was shaking in rage.

"Oh right! I forgot… that's scheduled for tomorrow." That was a stupid thing for me to forget. But wait! If Adam's intervention is tomorrow… then whose intervention was this? My brow creased in confusion. For a second I was worried that I looked like Adam, all blank faced and googly-eyed, but that moment passed as soon as Sarah Golden spoke.

"Carly, this is _your_ intervention," she said sweetly. I would have been shocked and angry had Sarah's tone not been so compassionate and sugary, so instead I was merely shocked.

"For me?" I gasped. The room nodded. "W-why?"

Miranda snapped her fingers and pointed to Adam. Adam jumped, muttered a quick, "Oh right. I forgot I'm first," and pulled out a small note card. "Carly," he read robotically. That was the intervention we had scheduled for Friday: Adam's robot voice. It seems to take over his body every time he reads. "You have seemed sad lately." He stopped and smiled triumphantly.

"What?" Miranda screeched. "Adam! That's all you have?"

Adam shrugged and looked embarrassed. Miranda glared and finally laid her pair of handcuffs on the table. (Exactly four minutes after the intervention had begun… Who called it?!) I knew she had them because she never leaves the house without them, but I was still shocked to find that they were pink and fuzzy. How cool is that? I'm pretty sure this means I can see the future. Although… if that were true, you'd think I'd have seen this intervention coming. Miranda tapped her handcuffs and Adam's eyes widened in fear.

Sarah Golden then looked off her pink flowery notepad and began to read. "Carly, I'm a bit worried about you. The black you wear, although very slimming, speaks volumes about your disposition. We just want to see you happy again, sweetheart. Whatever- or whoever- it is that has you so upset, we just want to help you fix, so we have convinced administration-"

"That means me!" Adam pointed out proudly, but shut up when Miranda tapped her handcuffs.

"And decided you should go on assignment in France to help you get over the corporate blues." Sarah smiled her golden grin and passed a plane ticket across the table to me, ignoring Adam as if he weren't present and having a mental staring contest with a pair of pink, fuzzy handcuffs.

"France?" I asked in awe. I once dreamed I went to France and the locals threw French fries at me and called me and evil senorita… which makes no sense since "senorita" is totally a German word.

"Oh shut up. It's my turn!" Miranda bellowed. She read her note off the back of her hand because Miranda never seems to find paper when she needs it. "Carly, you gothic whore. Get over yourself, cheer up, and go to France so you can bump-uglies with our sexy boss and get over him. We're all a bit tired of your lovesick stupor so please just leave." She stared rigidly at me. "Leave!" she shouted after a few minutes of my staring back.

"Leave?" I asked dumbly.

"Yes," Miranda commanded. "Right now!" I just sat there. Miranda grabbed her handcuffs and stood up, coming toward me. "LEAVE!"

Needless to say, I got out of that building quite quickly. It's too bad really- I was rather looking forward to the Jell-O intervention…


	12. Stairplane

_Hey! Sorry I'm just a bit later than promised, but the beach was calling my name today and it was so beautiful… so I gave in. Give me a break! I only have week left of summer people! I also would have written it earlier tonight, but it was the premier of _High School Musical 2!_ You didn't honestly expect me to miss that did you?! ( I wish sarcasm translated to paper better… but in all honestly… that is what I did instead. Sad. Pathetic woman. I just happen to have a crush on Zac Efron and you will too when you see _Hairspray. _And while we're on the topic… what the hell happened to Zac's K? Did he lose it?)_

_Ok. Carly and Danny (Minus the Danny). We're getting rather close to the end here. It is called Abbreviated for a reason…_

_Anyway I have another parody on the cusp of my brain. "Fitzwilliam Darcy: Former Child Star" What do you think?... Hmm._

_**Pride and Prejudice: Abbreviated and Un-fabricated**_

_If two wrongs make a right, then a wrong and an airplane obviously make a chapter in this very short story. We'll call it a stairplane! Yeah, that's catchy._

"And then Miranda said LEAVE! Although it was really more of a shout. But that's Miranda. She's kind of domineering and a bit scary… but on the plus side she looks really good in dresses. And she has nice calves. I'm really jealous of Miranda's calves."

"Fascinating."

Don't you just hate it when you're trying to tell someone a story and they just refuse to listen? I'd been trying to explain to this guy beside me, on the airplane, for about two hours why I'm going to France, but he just seems to refuse to listen.

But I refused to let him deter me. "So now I'm going to France to meet up with a guy who I'm pretty sure hates me, and I am like _so_ freaking nervous."

"Poor guy," the man drawled and tried, once again to focus on his book. I mean honestly! Who even bothers to read…? _War and Peace_? What's that? Another book about George Bush? Who reads that kind of stuff?

"You're not even listening to me, are you?" I asked as he shoved his face further into his voluminous book on George Bush. If he got any closer he would have to write himself into it.

"Trust me, sweetheart, I am trying with all my might not to." I really do not like this guy. But, fortunately for him- because I was about to break out those pink, fuzzy handcuffs that Miranda had sent with me to make sure my meeting with Danny was memorable- the lady on my other side seemed right interested in my tale.

"You poor thing," she sighed as she pulled out her in-flight magazine and smiled very sweetly. So sweetly in fact that I'm convinced she's related to Sarah Golden in some way. Or possibly Santa Clause. Well- why not? He's a right jolly fellow! Or so I hear…

I smiled back, but my ears were beginning to suffer from the pressure of the altitude and it was giving me a headache and making me a bit queasy.

"You must be so nervous to see him again. Do you know what you're going to say?" she asked sweetly as she absent-mindedly completed someone's old Sudoku.

I shrugged. "I was thinking something along the lines of: Hi I'm Carly. Remember me? The bitch that sold you out to my ex-editor? Yes, well I'm here and I come bearing handcuffs- so be nice Danny!"

The woman hesitated. I think she thought I was serious. In truth, I was about as serious as Larry is alive. Poor Larry. Being this high in the sky reminds me of him and his unfulfilled dream of going into outer space. Oddly enough, it also makes me think about the mile high club. Larry the six legged octopus and the mile high club. A direct connection if you ask me.

The man beside me laughed. I figured he was at the part in George Bush's career where Dick Cheney took over the country. That part makes me laugh too. But mostly only because his name in Dick. Haha! Gets me every time.

"You're really going to say that to him?" the man asked, setting aside the life of George and staring at me.

"I don't recall you being invited into this conversation," I stated with a sneer.

"That's funny because I feel as though I've been dragged into this conversation, kicking and screaming," he said back.

"You really shouldn't scream. We're in a confined space."

He laughed. "You're an interesting person." My eyebrows shot up, but he reassured me quickly. "And I find you to be rather annoying, but seeing as we have-" he checked his watch- "at least six more hours on this flight before you go and make a complete fool out of yourself, and- knowing my luck- I'll end up stuck beside you on the return flight, I feel obligated to help you."

"Maybe I don't want you help," I shot back. Those handcuffs were burning a hole in my pocket. Seriously, how does Miranda get anything done? If I were her, I'd just spend all day handcuffing people to immovable objects and losing the key.

"Considering how much you seem to like this guy- I think that you do want my help." He picked back up his book and immersed himself once again. "But if you don't want my help…" his voice floated up from the pages. It was a bit of an odd effect… as if a book were talking to me. A book about George Bush nonetheless.

"I don't like Danny!" I protested indignantly.

"Then why did you just spend the last two hours forcing me to listen to a story about him?" I didn't like this guy. How dare he say…?

"It's because he's my boss!"

"Sweetheart," the nice lady prodded. "It does sound as if you're falling for this guy, boss or not." Oh this woman was such a bitch!

"You got it bad," the rude man said, still staring intently into his book. "Just admit it."

I stood up in my tiny little airplane seat- managing to elbow the Nice Lady (who doesn't live up to her reputation) and smack the Rude Man in the face on my way up. (Accidentally, of course…) "Listen! You two don't know a thing!" I shouted while Nice Lady held her arm where I'd elbowed her and Rude Man held his face from where I'd hit him. "Danny is my boss! I can't like him because he's rude and dark… and so what that he knows what my favorite candy is, and keeps them handy, and thinks I'm interesting even though I'm a bit crazy? It doesn't matter that he's really cute and that I constantly wonder if he's a good kisser! Want to know why it doesn't matter? Because I don't LIKE HIM! And even if I did… this wouldn't be a revelation brought on by a pseudo-nice lady and a rude man who reads books about George Bush!"

I sat back down, feeling very proud. Nice Lady bit her lip and resumed her Sudoku, and Rude Man brought his hand away from his red face to reveal a cocky smirk. I contemplated the way they both seemed so proud of themselves and then it hit me…

Oh God! I like Danny Dardy!


	13. The Meeting

_Here. Read. Ahg I'm late!!!_

_**Pride and Prejudice: Abbreviated and Un-fabricated**_

_Ah. For so long now I have merely called this chap "the meeting" and so you must also do so. Hah. Sucker._

By the time the plane finally hit the ground, only one of my ears had popped and the other was still clogged with nine-million tons of air pressure. This is a very odd sensation, for those that have never experienced it. I felt oddly lopsided and awkwardly bumped into the door of the plane while I tried to exit with my nine-billion ton bag.

The flight attendant who normally sits there and says friendly terms like "Have a nice day," or "Enjoy your stay," is actually not that nice. She laughed at me. Quite viciously which I find to be rather rude considering the rate in which the knot appeared on my forehead.

When the rude man I sat beside saw me, he started having conniptions. Conniptions of laughter.

Well I was quite mortified as I waddled out of the air tunnel, with my giant duffle bag weighing down one side of me and my ear making me quite distorted. The balance was completely thrown off and I was, unknowingly, walking quite an erratic path. I didn't even realize… until I walked into the wall.

Rude Man just laughed again.

I eventually stumbled out of the hallway, only managing to trip on the little silver slip of metal that connects the tunnel to the building and one of the flight attendants had to help me along because I was taking so long to navigate the straight walkway.

By the time I got out of the tunnel, the concourse was quite deserted, (I was glad- this meant I wouldn't have to face the rude man again.) except for one dark haired man that stood waiting, patiently tapping his foot against the floor and seeming quite bored.

"Is someone picking you up ma'am?" the flight attendant asked me sweetly. Obviously, it wasn't the same attendant that had laughed at me when I hit my head- I'd kicked her in the shins when she tried to help me… she was still being "attended to" by the pilot. Hah. A flight _attendant_ being _attended_ to. Irony.

I turned lazily to her as she held me up on my wobbly legs. "Yes that contemptuous man over there," I replied, pointing to Danny. I had tried to say "contemptuous" but it came out more like "carnival circus," and I was meaning to point to the foot-tapping Danny, but I missed and was pointing at a hefty lady sleeping on her pile of luggage. Oh well, she obviously got the memo and led me to Danny.

As soon as Danny saw me his eyes lit up, but he tried to remain passive.

"Does she belong to you sir?" the flight attendant asked Danny.

"Unfortunately," Danny drawled. The attendant passed me over to him and Danny tried to hold me upright as my wobbly knees gave out and I barreled into him with my giant duffle bag. "I asked for assistance and Adam sends me you. Why does he hate me?" Danny asked, although I don't believe he was talking to me and the flight attendant had already left, so I can only assume he was talking to himself.

Hah. Danny Dardy talks to himself! Miranda would like to know that. I don't know why though…

"C'mon Carly," he said slowly as he took my suitcase from me and began to drag me off toward the exit. Silly Danny tried his hardest to lead me through the confusing French airport, with people shouting gibberish at us wherever we went. He looked particularly exhausted. I noticed this as we rode down those silly moving stairs. I noticed this to such an extent that I completely forgot I was on moving stairs, and the moment I remembered that I liked Danny Dardy I let go of him and stepped away causing me to topple, once again, and fall down. Oh those stairs are tricky! When you fall down them it quite hurts. Lucky for me, I was close to the bottom and only fell about half a foot.

I was lying on the floor laughing when Danny gently picked me up and carried me over to a nearby bench. "Carly, did you have anything to drink on that airplane?" he asked slowly, rolling up my jeans to examine the gash I'd gotten right there on my wobbly knee.

I shook my head. "Of course not Danny!" I giggled. "I only had Gin-N-Tonics and maybe a witty-bitty pill to calm my nerves." I held up my fingers to indicate just how little this pill was.

Danny's eyebrows shot up. He seemed oddly unimpressed by the amazingly miniscule pill. "You mixed alcohol and medications? Why?"

"Because I was nervous," I said as if it made perfect sense. I hadn't intended on mixing thingys. The pill was just so cute that I had to take it.

"About coming to France?" Danny asked as he rifled through his pockets and pulled out a band-aid. That was weird. Who keeps band-aids handy?

"No," I replied groggily as if he shouldn't feel so honored about my nerves being even in the same realm as thoughts of him. "About seeing you." I hadn't intended to say that. In fact, it was about five minutes until I even realized that I did.

Danny smiled, just slightly, but, still, it was more than he seemed to have smiled in weeks. "Oh Carly. What am I going to do with you?"

I shrugged and smiled. I didn't know what Danny wanted me to do. In fact I hardly cared, because I like him and that's a scary enough idea that I just wanted to forget about it. I kicked Danny off my bench and lay down. "I don't care what you do," I sighed closing my eyes. "I'm going to take a nap and forget that I ever liked Danny Dardy."


	14. Wadata

_I've spent a fair amount of time today not doing my Calc homework. Funny how that works, isn't it?_

_This is dedicated to my best friend, who called me last night to inform me that she was back from France... and stuck overnight in the Atlanta airport. Poor Jenni. She had to spend the night in a place called "Dusty's." The name itsel is ominous enough._

* * *

_**Pride and Prejudice: Abbreviated and Un-fabricated**_

_Wa-da-tah. _

I opened one eye.

It hurt. I closed it again. Oh, it was silly to try and wake up anyway. This bed was soft and fluffy; I saw absolutely no real reason for ever getting out of it. But then I remembered that this was…

"Danny Dardy! Why am I sleeping in your bed?" I asked, rushing into the nice little sitting room in a huff, my headache laying forgotten back in Danny's bed.

Danny immediately sat up groggily. It was rather amusing the way his head just kind of popped out from behind the couch. "Wha?" he grunted rubbing his eyes. He looked up at me, wrapped up in one of his sheets, and his eyes just seemed to pop out of his head. I briefly wondered how if it hurt him when his eyes bugged out that far. "Oh," he sighed. "You kind of passed out in the airport so I put you up for the night." His voice was muffled again, because my one ear still hadn't popped from the airplane, and I had to turn sideways so I could comprehend his mumbling.

"And why," I drawled, glaring daggers that he couldn't even see because I was turned sideways, "am I naked?"

Danny's eyebrows shot up. "I wouldn't know. I didn't do that!"

I turned to face him, ear be damned. "Then who did?"

Danny shrugged, then squinted and looked closely at my clavicle. I briefly wondered what could be so important about my clavicle that he'd be staring at it so intently. Maybe Danny has some sort of freaky clavicle fetish? Then I briefly wondered who cam up with the word "clavicle." I mean honestly? I could so do that job. I would never have called fingers "fingers." They would be "wormies" if I had any say in the matter. In fact most body parts should be re-named. Except elbow. I mean, "elbow!" It's like a stroke of pure genius!

Danny coughed to get my attention. I suppose I had drifted off a bit there. That would explain the drool on my chin. "Carly," he drawled, still staring at my clavicle, "I'm almost positive that you are in fact, not naked."

"What?" I asked. I could have sworn we were just having a chat about clavicles. Why was he talking about clothing… or lack thereof? "How would you know if I was dressed of not?" I asked, eyeing creepy Clavicle Fetish Man with suspicion.

Danny coughed again. "Because I'm fairly positive that I can see the straps of your shirt."

I looked down. Oh! Right there, running right across my clavicle, was the strap to what I could only assume was a shirt. I lifted the sheet off my chest and peered down it. What do you know? Turns out I wasn't naked after all. What are the odds?

"Hey look Danny!" I shouted somewhat excitedly as I dropped the sheet. "I'm not naked after all!"

Danny regarded me somewhat amused, somewhat confused and somewhat alien like. That's quite a few looks to have at one. "What are the odds?" he asked somewhat sarcastically. That was weird. I could have sworn I'd thought something similar to that… I hardly stopped to ponder the odds of Danny being telekinetic; I was a bit too preoccupied with how he managed to slip "sarcastic" in amongst a myriad of other expressions.

"So, Carly, how about you get dressed so we can get to work," he suggested, blinking at me.

"I thought we just established that I'm already dressed," I pointed out. "And we're in France!" The thought finally hit me and I was overcome with sudden excitement. "It's like illegal to work in France!"

I hardly bothered to watch Danny roll his eyes at me, I was in France! What did I care if my sexy boss that I probably have a huge crush on was laying half naked (Oh? Had I forgot to mention that Danny likes to sleep without a shirt on?) on a sofa in a spectacular French villa? I rushed to the window and threw them open like they do in the movies. I almost fell out the window while trying to do so, but I feel the effect was the same.

I stared out the window agog. "Oh my!" That's how amazingly beautiful the French countryside is: I was reduced to the phrase "Oh my." It knocked me all the way to the 1960's.

"Danny!" I shouted over my shoulder. "Have you seen this place?!" I didn't stop to cosider that this was, in fact, _his_ villa.

Danny stomped over to me after he hastily threw on a shirt. I was too preoccupied to be disappointed over him being fully-clothed… and then frustrated over my own disappointment… then analyzing over my own self-inflicted frustrations. Sometimes it's hard living in my head. It was nice to have a vacation.

"Welcome to the French Riviera, Carly," he stated as he hovered by my shoulder.

Unfortunately he was standing by the shoulder on my right side, where my ear still hadn't popped, and I couldn't understand a word he'd said.

But oh well! I was in France…!


	15. Phlegm

_This isn't quite where I was going with this… but it's kind of like the first part. Think of it as a two part chapter. Unfortunately you'll still hafta wait for da rest. (Yeah. Dat's how we roll downs in da hood! And by hood… I mean St. Augustine…)_

_**Pride and Prejudice: Abbreviated and Un-fabrication **_

_I'm running out of things to call chapters. We'll just call this one… phlegm… because when I hear French, it sounds very phlegmmy. _

France sucks. Or at least standing out here in this boring old vineyard listening to this ancient man prattle on and on in French about grapes sucks. I want to go to the Louvre. I want to meet cute French men and have illegitimate affairs… although I don't think Danny would enjoy that.

Stupid, boring Danny seems to actually enjoy this boring old man that resembles a raisin. Hah. A raisin! You see that's a funny thing when you're standing in a field of grapes. But honestly… he really does look like a raisin… Oh god! All this talk of raisins has made me hungry!

I looked up to make sure that the coast was clear. Danny was nodding eagerly as the old man continued to talk quickly in French. Perfect. This was my opportunity. I reached out toward the vine and looked for a good looking grape. Oh they were so pretty and purple. Maybe I could just take a small handful… I mean one grape would hardly fill me up. Plus, it's not like they were in short supply. This stupid vineyard seemed to go on forever!

I plucked one fresh, juicy grape off the vine and popped it in my mouth. I hadn't even crunched down on the sweet little sucker, before the raisin man was pinching my cheeks and saying some jibber-jabber in French. "Ne mangez pas les raisins."

Raisins! Hah! He was confessing to being a raisin… But that didn't explain why he was pinching my cheeks.

"L'a craché," he commanded. I hadn't a clue what he was getting at. I think he meant for me to chew… but that was a difficult command with him holding my jaw open.

"He says to spit it out, Carly," Danny said, smiling slightly at me. He looked quite cocky. He better watch out, though. I'm pretty sure that when crazy Raisin Man was done with me he would kill Danny next.

I spit the grape out, nonetheless. The Raisin Man was standing in front of me, and when I spit it, it hit him square between the eyes. He looked right angry… but you have to give me credit on my aim.

Raisin Man released me and turned boiling red. I suppose that meant he was either angry, or rather hot. He started shouting at me in quick French, "Vous américain déplaisant! Comment osent vous détruire mon vignoble sacré et irrespect moi!" I suppose that meant he was angry.

Danny stepped up to the man and replied, just as quickly in perfect French, "C'était un accident. Elle n'a voulu dire rien par cela."

I didn't know what he was saying about me, but I trusted him enough to nod along.

"Un accident?" the Raisin Man asked, still staring angrily at me. I understood him well enough to nod even more so. I was starting to feel like a bobble-head doll. Oh! How cool would it be to be a bobble-head doll!

"Oui," Danny agreed. He looked at me pointedly. I didn't know what he wanted me to do, so I just nodded some more. My neck was becoming rather sore.

"L'une ou l'autre voie! Cette réunion est finie!" the man continued, still sounding quite put-out, and staring rather vehemently at me.

"Fini?" Danny asked. Danny turned to me. I was quite gross looking and didn't much appreciate his scrutiny. I was becoming sun burnt from the… well essentially the sun, and my shirt was rather sweaty. Danny nodded once and looked back at the man. "Oui parfait." Danny quickly shook hands with the man, mumbling more unintelligible French, and coming over to me.

"Did I ruin everything?" I asked as Danny led me back out of the vineyard, pressing me forward with his hand on the small of my back. That's another body part that could use a good re-name. What are your thoughts on calling it the Dunderfinn?

Danny shook his head. "You didn't ruin anything."

I was very red, from the heat and embarrassment. If the old man was a raisin I was a tomato, or a strawberry, or a raspberry… although raspberries are hardly red, they're more… raspberry colored. Now I was red and feeling rather guilty. "I didn't ruin your reference, did I? I mean, I know you needed that information on grapes for your thing about wine and all and I really hadn't meant to eat that grape, I mean of course I meant to _eat _it, but I hadn't expected him to be so angry. I was just hungry!" That was a long sentence. By the time I finished I was rather winded and had to stop to catch my breath.

Danny waited patiently for me to regain myself. "You didn't ruin anything. We were done anyway and it was stupid of me to leave you out there all that time." He was being really nice to me. He was also smiling more often than I'd ever seen him smile. It was rather creepy to see Perm-a-smile Danny. It was like Danny had gotten some sort of lobotomy. "Now-" he put his hand back on my dundefinn and smiled- "would you like to get some lunch?"

Sometimes I'm pretty sure Danny Dardy can read my mind…

_

* * *

_

_The gist of what the Grape Man says is basically: "Don't eat my grapes." "Spit it out." "You are a stupid American. Get out of here." "An accident?" "Either way. We are finished here." _

_That is all. ;)_


	16. Double the Phlegm

_**Pride and Prejudice: Abbreviated and Un-fabricated**_

_The second part of Phlegm. Double the Phlegm._

"Sometimes I wish I had a lightsabre."

"What?" Danny asked as he set down his espresso. Danny drinking espresso is a funny image. They gave him one of those tiny little cups with the cute little saucer. He looks like a giant living in the Top Secret Elf Kingdom. But then I remind myself that Danny probably doesn't even know about the Elf Kingdom. That's why they have the "top secret" in there. I'm one of the few who know… and only because I'm part fairy and elves really like fairies. Do you think that Danny's part gnome? They say gnomes are telekinetic…

"How do you know French?" I asked, hastily changing the topic of conversation. I didn't want to hint too much about the Top Secret Elf Kingdom just in case Danny might be a part gnome. Gnomes and elves don't get along too well.

"My mother was French," Danny replied taking a sip of his miniature cup that he stole from the elves. And gnomes wonder why elves hate them…

"Oh really?" I hadn't known that. "I thought she was from Lithuania."

Danny smiled and laughed softly, which was weird… was I unintentionally making a joke? We have confirmation. Danny has had a lobotomy.

"She grew up in Paris and met my father when she was doing her schooling in America," he informed me.

"So your dad was from Lithuania?" I asked.

"What? Carly no. No one I know is from Lithuania. Just American." He took another sip from his miniature cup. Sometimes I seriously wonder how they make cups that small. Honestly, it would be impossible if not for magic. Magic is the greatest thing ever. That's why I need a lightsabre. "What about you?"

"No. I'm not from Lithuania." That was a silly question for him to ask.

Danny shook his head sadly. "Carly! I mean, what's your story?"

"Oh." Honestly? How was I supposed to get that from his ambiguous question? "Um. I was born. I went to school. I went to college. I worked at a newspaper with a very jerky boss the next thing I know I'm here. And the rest is still being written."

"Hmm. That was oddly specific."

I laughed. Who knew Danny could be funny?

"So the jerky boss. Was that me or… or-"

"Stephen?" I asked. He nodded. "You were a pretty good boss."

"Were?" he asked. He seemed quite confused by my tense. In truth I hardly thought of Danny as my brooding boss anymore. It's hard to consider someone as the person that pays you when all you want to do is kiss them… except maybe if you're like a you-know-what. (Notice: That's a You-Know-What not You-Know-Who… but I do think that Voldermort might complete that sentence as well.)

I shrugged to Danny and, once again, spoke without thinking, "Danny have you ever been in love?"

Danny's eyes became comically wide and his cheeks turned a flaming shade of pink. But, before he could answer… or stutter for a prolonged period of time, a man came up to our table and held out a bright pink rose that, ironically enough, was the exact same shade as Danny's cheeks. "Une fleur pour votre amour?" he asked Danny.

Danny looked at me and I smiled, trying to remain composed, even though I had no clue what the man had said. Danny turned back to the man with the flower and said, again in perfect French, "Regardez-la. Une fleur limiterait la comparaison."

The man smiled and nodded, while laughing softly he muttered, "Vrai. Vrai," and walked away. I got the unmistakable feeling that he was laughing at me. I blushed almost as pink as Danny was, out of pure mortification. Danny didn't want me to get that flower and obviously didn't still like me. I was a complete idiot for thinking that Danny could forgive me and like me again, and this stupid French café suddenly seemed very cold, and I just wanted to go home and take a nap under my desk like I normally did for lunch.

"Danny, can we go now?" I asked, standing up abruptly and walking out of the Café. I just wanted to go back to America now, where there are no raisin-y old men that won't let you eat grapes, or men that laugh at you when the guy you like won't get you a flower.

I'm no French… speaker, but I know what "amour" means. And I am obviously not Danny Dardy's. But, I tried to tell myself, I'd have rather have a lightsabre anyway…

* * *

_What the flower man says is: "A flower for your love?" _

_Danny says: "Look at her. A flower would pale in comparison."_

_And "Vrai" means "true." _

_All together now… Awwwwwww!_

... Short Chap? Ya. I know... :(


	17. The Problem With Instant Communication

_I fianlly saw "Becoming Jane!" Grrrreat. Only like P&P to the ignorant mind. Oh god... poor Janie! She loved him soooo much. And he did her. Sad. Sad. Let's hope Carly's fate is better..._

_**Pride and Prejudice: Abbreviated and Un-fabricated**_

_This can only and will only be titled "The Problem with Instant Communication"_

It was two days later and I was still stuck in France. Mine and Danny's roles seemed to have reversed over the last two days. I'd become the brooding schizophrenic and he'd become the person trying desperately to cheer me up.

But the only thing that would cheer me up was for him to take me home, which he couldn't do until his finished his reference, and maybe give me a few days alone to recover from my broken heart. Stupid heart. All along I'd thought mine was rubber, but, what ho! It's obviously very breakable.

I'd taken to checking my e-mail on Danny's computer quite often hoping that Sarah or Adam would send me some sort of e-mail asking me to come home. I needed Danny-free time and no one seemed to be granting me any.

As if on cue, Danny came into the room where I was sitting on his computer. "What are you doing Carly?" he asked.

"Checking my e-mail," I informed him blandly. I tried to smile at him. Ow. Smiling hurts. I think I managed to chip a tooth. See, smiling is painful and dangerous. I shouldn't do it anymore.

"You check your e-mail every half hour," he pointed out. Well, obviously not literally. It would be difficult to point out something intangible. "Are you expecting anything?"

Yes. A rescue. "No. Nothing."

"Then get off the computer." He came over to me and tried to take the computer from me while I waited for the AOL program to load.

I tugged back on the computer. It was like an electronic game of tug-o-war. "Why?"

"We're in France!" he pointed out again, but we've been over the fact that he didn't literally point it out. "You don't spend the entire day on the computer when you're in France."

"Well _I _do!" I shouted at him. I didn't really want to shout at him. Ok. Maybe I did. But I didn't mean to shout something so immature. I meant to shout something more along the lines of "But I love you Danny!" but I'm pretty glad I didn't. Think how embarrassing that would have been: Me shouting at my boss that I love him when he made it almost blatantly obvious just two days prior that he had absolutely no feelings for me. How pathetic would that be? Let's put it this way: It would be worse than the time my imaginary boyfriend and I got into an argument in the ladies restroom and he left me sitting in the public stall to cry my eyes out. Speaking of Trevor… I should probably break up with him now that I'm in love with Danny Dardy and all.

I think Danny might be in love with Miranda actually. I'm pretty sure I saw an e-mail from her the other day on his account. (He left it signed on! I'm not that crazy!) Ok so never mind… I'm _sure_ I saw an e-mail from Miranda. I'm sure because my curiosity got the best of me and I allowed my self to take a tiny little peek at it. Don freak out! All it said was: "Did you do it yet?" I can only assume that she was asking him if he'd told me that he was in love with her. That Beetch! … I mean bitch.

Which brings me back to the present? The laptop tug-o-war was in full swing. I was loosing rather horribly. Danny is much stronger than me; he gave a great tug and yanked the laptop toward himself. Me, being the stubborn little cow that I am, refused to let go of the lappy. When Danny yanked, I was tugged onto his chest along with the laptop.

As I finally realized that I was pressed up against Danny's chest, I relinquished the laptop. I actually relinquished all semblance of thought. I was pressed against Danny Dardy's chest! What did I care that I was wearing a really uncomfortable double-barreled-water-balloon-shooter? I was pressed against Danny Dardy's chest! Let me say it one more time for good measure: I was pressed against Danny Dardy's chest!

Danny took the laptop from me, as I let it slide out of my hands, and placed it on the floor right beside the sofa where I was still pressed against Danny Dardy's chest! (Sorry. Last time I promise.) Danny half-sighed and then slowly, nay _painfully _slowly, slid his hands around my torso until his arms were wrapped around me and his palms were pressed against my dunderfinn.

"Carly," he whispered, his lips really close to my face. I could feel his breath on my cheek. "I have something I need to tell you."

I was so close to Danny that I had completely forgotten how to speak. I fleetingly thought that he was going to tell me about his torrid and forbidden love-affair with Miranda. That Beetch!

"Ok," I breathed back. I was surprised I even managed two whole syllables. Ok… so maybe in truth in came out sounding more like "hoik" but Danny didn't seem to mind. In fact, it's possible that he hadn't even heard, despite our proximity… which, amazingly enough was growing even closer. If I hadn't known that Danny was in love with Miranda Beetch, I would have sworn that Danny was about to kiss me. But before I could discover the truth of our proximity and the dunderfinn touching…

"You've got mail."

Oh! That stupid computer. It seems to ruin every dunderfinn moment. "Oh! My mail!" I exclaimed, momentarily forgetting that I was pressed against Danny's chest. (Ok. I'm sorry. I know I promised. Last time for sure.) I jumped away and, in lightening speed, pulled up my mail. Hmm. I had one from Adam, one from Miranda Bitch… I mean Beetch, one from Sarah Golden and five from Stephen. Stephen! Shit, I'd forgotten to tell my ex-boss that I quit and I hate him… Oops.

"Carly?" Danny asked me seeming slightly distracted and put-out, but still worried. "What's wrong?"

Remember how I'd wished for that emergency to get me away from France? Yeah… be careful what you wish for.


	18. Stop Clapping Your Damn Hands

_Here it is! I've been waiting awhile to post it, but I'm very excited. We probably only have like two chapters left… possibly three. I don't know yet, but we will be finished my next week. This chapter is kind of sad. Poor Carly._

_Ok Read. Read on. Read until your dreams come true. (Then review.)_

* * *

_**Pride and Prejudice: Abbreviated and Un-fabricated**_

"_If you're happy and you know it clap your hands." Ugh. Do you ever get a song stuck in your head?_

They say that waiting is the hardest part. And they're right.

"It'll be okay, Carly," Sarah reassured me sweetly as I sat in her little cubicle with Miranda and her. It'd been a long week thus far and I was severely doubtful that it _would_ be okay. Sarah was so sweet, but she just made me feel worse.

And to top things off Trevor found out about me being in love with Danny and broke up with me this morning. Unrequited love or not.

"Yeah, Carly," Miranda sighed. She tried to squeeze my arm sweetly, but the cubicle was so small that Miranda just ended up elbowing me in the nose and giving me a nose bleed. Sarah handed me a tissue and I shoved it up my nostrils.

"You really shouldn't worry so much about Stephen. It was probably just a threat." Sarah handed me another tissue, this one for me to cry into, but the blood was coming out of my nose rather quickly and I had to shove this one up my nostrils as well and ended up crying into my shirt sleeve.

"Don't beat yourself up about it Carly," Miranda grunted. I could tell her compassion stores were being exhausted and with Miranda that's a nonrenewable resource. "It's really not your fault that your former boss is threatening your journalistic reputation by blackmailing you with the publication of racy pictures of you and him. You have a thing for men in authority, don't you?"

I sobbed harder into my sleeve. Oh, hearing it summed up like that made it seem even worse than that time Larry the six legged octopus had a mutinous uprising against me and convinced all my friends that I was an alien. _Me_? An alien? I'm not the one with six legs and dreams of becoming an astronaut, but the rest of my friends refused to see reason. That was the last time Henrietta Elaphantae ever spoke to me. I miss good old Hen… I got so tired of her silence that I eventually threw her out of my bedroom window. Mommy ran her over with her mini-van and poor Hen's wooden legs wouldn't move her fast enough to get her out of the way. Stupid wooden elephant.

"I just can't believe that you had a fling with Stephen Wicki!" Miranda exclaimed. Yep, compassion stores were all used up. Boy was this fun.

"It wasn't an affair," I protested through my bloody tissues. God! This blood just wasn't stopping. Is that normal? I probably have leukemia. Knowing my luck, it's possible. "It was like one kiss, one night, and he was taking advantage of me! I don't know where those damn pictures came from!" Oh no, I was sobbing harder and my tissue was full again. Sarah handed me another one.

"Let's not argue," Sarah sighed, peering into her empty box of tissues. "Miranda we're supposed to be helping Carly, not hindering. Carly, I really think things will turn out okay. Adam says that we should help you get ready for Danny's arrival and go back to work, like nothing has happened and, as weird as this is to admit, I think he's right."

"Why do we have to get ready for Danny's arrival?" I asked. "He doesn't show up for another week." My final bloody tissue was so saturated that it fell out of my nose and got blood on my pretty blue dress. Oh damn. Could things get any worse?

Miranda hid a grin. I knew they were about to tell me something bad. Miranda always smiles when she senses other's pending doom.

"Sweetheart," Sarah soothed, as blood poured out of my nose, "Danny arrived back in town like three days ago. He's supposed to be back in the office tomorrow."

Three days ago? And he didn't even come to check up on me. I mean, I realize that he doesn't love me, but wow… three whole days! Danny's never been out of work for a single day, yet alone three. That's how much he must hate me now: That he'd miss three whole days!

Oh god! And he was coming back to the office tomorrow. The only thing worse than not seeing Danny for the past five days, would be _seeing_ him. The last thing I remember was me crying over his laptop as I stared at the picture that Stephen had e-mailed me. It was dreadful picture of Stephen and me making out on a hotel balcony. It looked as though we were alone in his room, but that's just the angle. There were people all around us. Not to mention… my butt looked huge in the picture.

Danny had peered over my shoulder and turned puce. "Why do you have a picture of you and Stephen Wicki making out?" he asked. He hadn't sounded angry, just very numb. Further proof that he doesn't love me.

I had sobbed and told him the whole tale. I told him about the office party at the Hilton over a year ago. I told him it had only been once and I'd slapped Stephen he very next instant. I told him about Stephen using it against me. I sobbed about Stephen threatening to publish it along with an article that called into question my journalistic morals and the idea that I'm "moving on to ensnare internet tycoon Danny Dardy." Or at least he'd read that part in the attached article.

Danny was very, very angry (I could tell by his maroon tint), but he was still a good guy and so he called up a car service to take me to the airport and let me charge my ticket to the company credit card, but still, he didn't even look at me the entire time. As soon as he saw that picture I became repulsive to him… not that he ever liked me in the first place.

And now he is coming back to the office and I'll have to face him and he'll probably still be so angry with me that he still won't look at me and I'll have to deal with losing the only man I've ever loved.

I sobbed harder into my sleeve as my bloody nose dripped down my face. I was very, very wrong. Things, apparently,_ could_ get worse…


	19. Awkward Moment

_One more chapter and then an epilogue of sorts. Ok! I hope you like it. I can promise you it's much less depressing than the last couple of chaps. Read it and… don't weep._

"_And that's all I have to say about that." (Forest Gump)_

_**Pride and Prejudice: Abbreviated and Un-fabricated**_

_Awkward moment. Let us sit and soak up the pure awkwardness of it all._

"_He's here_," Adam whispered conspiratorially, popping his head around the fake, foam wall the separated Miranda's cubicle from the rest of the world. This little separation was very necessary. You see Miranda is very proud of her body and so she decided that she wanted to stick up pictures of herself… and her body… and a sabre… and a stun-gun… and a bird cage… and… well that's about it actually. Clothing optional… apparently. Anyway, said pictures caused quite the controversy before I got here. Apparently Barbra, Adam and Danny's assistant before me, was very disturbed by these images and petitioned for their removal… That's why they fired her.

The rest of the office thinks they're refreshing. If you stand on your head, Miranda's boobs kind of look like cantaloupe. …Or so Adam says.

Anyway, I'd been hiding in Miranda's pornographic cubicle for the entire day, hoping that when Danny came into work he would merely avoid eye-contact with an empty desk rather than with me.

"_He's here_," Adam hissed into Sarah's cubicle.

"Who's here?" she asked back in a normal tone. Did she not comprehend the stealthy-ness of Adam's mission? "You're not James Bond, you know," Sarah added.

What! He's not? That lying bastard.

"I was last night, now wasn't I?" Adam replied. Miranda and I pulled faces. Were we overhearing what we thought we were hearing? …Okay, in all honesty I pulled a face because I'd just noticed that there was this one picture in Miranda's office where she was upside-down on a fireman's pole. I wonder how she holds herself like that… She must have great upper-body strength.

"_Last night_?" Miranda mouthed to me. I jumped and suddenly remember that I was supposed to be eavesdropping on Adam and Sarah and not fantasizing about Danny Dardy becoming a fireman and sliding down that sexy pole in his sexy uniform… Oh God… FOCUS!

Sarah giggled and hissed the noise that annoying librarians use when they want you to be quiet, but all you want to do is talk to your sexy R.A. that looks an awful lot like Danny Dardy… FOCUS! "Adam," she sighed, still giggling slightly. "I thought we said we wouldn't discuss that at work."

Miranda started to laugh, but covered up her mouth just in time. I bet Danny Dardy would cover up my mouth in a really sexy way if I were ever to laugh at inappropriate times… like during a moment of silence… or during sex… FOCUS!

"Sarah," Adam groaned. "I just can't stop thinking about it! It was just so amazing that thing… you know that thing you did with the needles… and oh man! The part with the string!"

Miranda had to bind and gag herself to keep from laughing. Oh, binding and gagging Danny Dardy to a bedpost… Ahg! FOCUS! …This is getting inappropriate. I blame the pornographic cubicle.

"It was yarn!" Sarah hissed. "And can we stop discussing it at the office? Can you even contemplate what would happen if someone were to over hear us?" she hissed. Contemplate? Adam probably didn't even know what contemplate meant.

"Maybe I don't care anymore, Sarah?" Adam proclaimed, his volume rising slightly. "Maybe it's time the whole world discovers that you and I-"

"Shush!" Sarah snapped.

Miranda made a painful squeak of repressed laughter, but, thank God, just as her will broke, another voice shouted across the office, "Hello? Is anybody even here?"

Everyone jumped and all at once all… (… one, two… three…) all four employees came rushing out of their cubicles (or whoever's cubicle they happened to be in at the moment).

"Danny, old chap!' Adam exclaimed excitedly, clasping Danny on the shoulder. I stared at Adam, studying his lumpy sweater and _only_ his lumpy sweater. It was very difficult to stare at such an ugly lumpy sweater when I was itching to stare at Danny, but I just couldn't bring myself to see how unfazed Danny was by my… misfortune. Plus I wouldn't be able to handle any more eye contact avoidance. _Plus_, it was a spectacularly ugly, lumpy sweater. Where do you obtain a sweater quite that hideous? The things Adam manages… And to think that Sarah-

"How was France?" Miranda asked as she calmly examined her nails. She asked, but she hardly seemed interested. Or possibly she was feigning disinterest. I suddenly remembered Danny's e-mail from her. They were obviously lovers. Maybe that _was_ Danny's fireman's pole that Miranda was sliding down in the picture…

"It was… interesting."

But then I recalled that Danny would never let anyone else use his fireman's pole. He's oddly protective of his fireman things. He'd never even let someone else _look_ at his special fireman's uniform. Then… why even have it in the first place? Hmm… Danny Dardy is one odd character.

As a reflex, and partly because that ugly sweater was so hideous it was causing retina damage to my eyes, I looked at Danny. I was… surprised by what I saw. Danny's suit was uncharistically rumpled. He had large, dark circles under his eyes, his hair was defying gravity and his normally gorgeous eyebrows were sticking out at every possible angle. But, most surprising of it all, he was staring right at me.

And, oddly enough, not wearing his top secret fireman's uniform… Dis-uh-pointing…


	20. The Final Chap

_What's this? The final chapt- … er… thing. Is it long enough to be considered a chapter?_

_Anyway… there's still a kind of epilogue. But still this is your second to last chance to leave a review. So you should probably make sure to do that… or else I might possibly cry._

_In other news: I finally reached 100 reviews! You guys are KICKIN'! Haha. Ok. It's Carly's turn to narrate. Enjoy… an ending… of sorts._

_And review… because you love me… or because you love Danny… Either or._

_**Pride and Prejudice: Abbreviated and Un-fabricated**_

_The benefits of napping during work and photojournalism. Basically… the perks of life in general and the climax of my deluded story. The Final Chap._

"Everyone! We have a confession to make!" Adam announced to all… two of us. He stood before Miranda and I, holding the hand of Sarah Golden and smiling like an idiot. Sarah blushed, murmured a protest and tried to break free of Adam's grasp. "We shouldn't hide who we truly are," Adam hissed back at her. Miranda and I locked eyes and tried not to giggle. Some of us were more successful than others.

"What is it?" Miranda sighed impatiently as I giggled profusely. Things seem so much more amusing when Adam forgets to wipe the pudding off his face after lunch.

Adam waited for me to regain my composure. Half and hour later, he finally made his announcement. "We like to knit!" he announced proudly.

"You have got to be kidding me," Miranda growled in disappointment.

"I know, I know! It's very shocking, regain your bearings… in time this too shall heal," he said reassuringly, dropping Sarah's hand to clasp Miranda on the shoulder. Miranda doesn't like to be touched. She karate chopped him in the gut.

As Adam lay squirming on the floor in agony, Miranda and I took to grilling Sarah about her "knitting scandal." "So that conversation we overheard, about the thing with the needles…" I inquired.

"Knitting needles," Sarah corrected with a blush. "I can't believe you guys overheard that."

"So that's it? Just knitting?" Miranda was very, very disappointed. "No random acts of sexual violence? No whips or cages or… real needles of any sort? God I hate this place," she sighed acquiescing and rolling back to her pornographic cubicle in her desk chair.

Sarah bent over Adam's writhing body and tried to calm him down. "Carly?" she asked as she calmly pinned him to the floor and he squirmed beneath her. "Can you go get Adam's Ritalin from the office? I forgot to grind it up and put it in his pudding." She was straddling him with ease. Knitting needles my ass…

I crept slowly into the office. I figured if I was quiet enough Danny wouldn't notice that I was creeping into his office. Like a T-Rex, all I had to do was hold still, and be quiet, and he'd never notice me. Luckily, he was asleep, his face pressed against his keyboard.

I crept over to Adam's tiny little desk that they used back in middle school. I wondered if maybe I could get one of those for my new desk… They're so cute. I shuffled through the dinosaur figurines, looking for that little pill-bottle. It wasn't there. I suddenly remembered Adam once telling me that Danny keeps "those yummy little pills" in a place where he can't get to them. I knew right away that that meant they'd be in Danny's bottom desk drawer. That was where Danny kept all his most important files… I knew Adam was forbidden to touch it… plus he had no reason to do so.

Once again, I crept across the office, this time over to Danny's desk. I bent down to the bottom left, top secret drawer. I was slightly excited. I'd never been in this drawer before.

I slid it open slowly so as to not make a loud noise and wake up Danny, and because I was a spy and spies must be very stealth about these kinds of things. There, laying on top of all the files, was a large manila envelope. Hmm. That's funny. We hardly ever use manila envelopes. I wonder…

I slowly untangled that cool stringy thing that holds the envelope closed. Manila envelopes are sweet. We should probably try to get some here. Then I slid out the sticky paper inside the sweet manila envelope. Hmm. Pictures? Did Miranda mail out her nude Christmas card early this year? But wait… Why would Miranda's nude Christmas card have people that are dressed on it? And why were those two people kissing on a dark balcony? And that one guy looked kind of like Stephen… And… "OH MY GOD!" I shouted and tossed that wretched manila envelope away.

"What!" Danny jumped awake and hit his head on his computer in his sudden awakening. "What's going on?" he grumbled as he groggily rubbed his eyes.

"This!" I shouted, my eyes wide, as I picked back up that horrible photograph and held it under Danny's keyboard imprinted nose. "Why do you have this picture of me kissing Stephen Wicki?"

Danny's eyes grew as wide as mine were. "Where did you get that?" he asked numbly. He would have looked horrified, except that his face was sore from the keyboard, and he only appeared horri_fying_.

"From this folder!" I was still shouting. In a weird way, it was rather exhilarating.

"Ok! Ok, I can explain this," he said in his defense. I think the soreness in his face was finally kicking in and he began to rub the keyboard impression furiously. "That is something that I…" I tapped my foot impatiently. "Something I bought from Stephen Wicki so that he wouldn't print it."

He did what? "You did what!"

"I-I," he stuttered. "I _had to,_ Carly. You just seemed so upset. I couldn't let you go down in a sinking ship when I knew there was something I could do. So, I came home from Italy early and have spent the last four days with absolutely no sleep as I did everything in my power to get that picture, the negatives and the accompanying article from Wicki. I _had to_! I couldn't let him ruin your journalistic reputation."

I let the picture fall from my hands. So _that_ was why he came back early? That was why he'd been so tired? "Why?" I asked numbly.

Danny shrugged. "You really don't know?" I shook my head as Danny stoop from his desk chair so that he could be level with me (and by level I mean like a foot taller) as I stood beside him. He smiled slightly as I looked up at him, and without a single word, he kissed me.

DANNY DARDY WAS KISSING ME!

Oh and he was good. Like… strawberry, apple pudding style good. Double-barreled-water-balloon-shooter good. He was Jim on "The Office" good. He was knee-melting, unforgettably, cry myself to sleep, call mom to dust off her old wedding dress type good.

I, begrudgingly, stepped back and tried to hide my bursting smile. I was absolutely horrible at it. But I was a girl on a mission and I still had one last question to ask. "Danny, what did you have to do to get the article from Stephen?"

Danny smiled and quirked his sexy eyebrow (Timmy, not Tommy.). "Oh, you'll see…"

I hardly saw much of anything though. Well… Anything but Danny Dardy's lips…

"Carly!" I distantly heard Sarah shouting from outside the office. "You got that pill yet?"

Ah. Adam could wait. I would be kissing Danny for as long as the world turns; as long as I am alive; as long as I… Oh god! Problem: I'm running out of breath…


	21. Epi: Abbreviated Moments

_This is it! The official ending. I think after reading this there won't be much need for a sequel. I very breifly considered doing a prequel about Carly as a child, but I just have so many other stories and no plot line for it... so I figured that won't happen. This is a fun story and I really enjoyed writing it and reading you guys' reviews. They made me laugh harder than when reading this story. I'm really glad I got to write this and help lighten myself up. Originally it was started to make me feel better about Love to the "Tune of a Country Song". I needed to release excess wackiness in order to write chapters for that. Now I'd like to think that my humor has exyended beyond that. I hope you guys will check out "Spandex" and "Former Child Star" I have interesting twists for common characters and I love getting new loyal reviewers._

_Thanks everyone!_

* * *

_**Pride and Prejudice: Abbreviated and Un-fabricated**_

_Abbreviated Moments with Carly (and sometimes Danny)_

On Monday I finally discovered what Danny had done to persuade Stephen not to print his article about me. I was passing by a newsstand on my way to work. It was so bright and lovely. I swear there were birds singing… or possibly it was just the honk of car horns. Either way, the world was music to my ears.

Where was I? Oh yes, the newsstand. I was skipping along the city sidewalk when I noticed Brad Pitt on the cover of a tabloid. I was very distraught. If Brangelina were on the rocks, what chance did couples everywhere stand? I was contemplating mine and Danny's celebrity couple name. Darly? Canny? Hmm…

Then I saw it. On the cover of The Inquirer. "Danny Dardy: Man of Mystery." I quickly purchased a copy and skimmed through it on my way to work. The entire article was a synopsis of Danny Dardy's secret life as an undercover… fireman?

"Oh Danny." No, no! You said it wrong! I wasn't disappointed. Let's try it again, this time with a suggestive/perverse inflection. "_Oh_ D_an_ny."

Yep. There were picture included. The pornographic cubicle was put to shame.

* * *

I was relaxing in Danny's office. Unofficially, I was considering forcing Adam to switch desks with me. I spent almost all my time in Danny's office anyway. With the door locked so Adam couldn't sneak in on us while we were… _filing_. In truth the desk switch would be more convenient for all of us. I could spend as much time as I liked with Danny… _filing. _And Adam could spend as much time as he liked with Sarah… _knitting. _(I mean honestly! Knitting? At least come up with a better excuse.) 

Danny said the swap wasn't going to happen. Actually what he said was, "You think I'm running an orgy here, Carly? This isn't a place that people come to to get laid!" Ha. Filthy hypocrite.

As I was saying I was _filing_ in Danny's office. With the door locked. "Danny?" I asked. "Do you think it's possible that the moon is made of cheese? I have this overwhelming feeling that it is. Plus, I had this dream last night that Larry and I were on the moon and we forgot to bring the crackers with us, but I'm pretty sure it was only because I'd fallen asleep watching _Wallace and Gromit_, but it's possible that it meant something else. What if my dream actually meant that in the future I will become a robot? Wouldn't that be horrible? _Wouldn't it_ Danny?"

Danny scrunched his sexy eyebrows. Timmy and Tommy are oh so cute. "Uh. Who's Larry again?"

I rolled my eyes and completed a quick description. Silly Danny. Isn't he supposed to be telekinetic or something? "… And that's why Larry never made it to the moon."

Danny looked highly amused.

"What is it?" I asked as he just sat there and smiled at me.

Danny continued to smile. "God Carly. I love you."

Oh great. Now the both of us were grinning like idiots.

* * *

Valentines Day rocks when you have a boyfriend. Trevor never gave me presents before. God, Trev was a horrible boyfriend. Glad that's over… 

"What is it?" I asked as I held the oddly long and rectangular box.

Danny fidgeted. "A Valentines Day present."

I tried to shake it, but it was too big. So I did the only thing any logical girl would do: I tore viciously into it. Paper flew across the office.

OH MY GOD! "You got me a lightsaber?" I asked Danny.

Danny continued to fidget, unable to discern my reaction. "I-I had this weird feeling that you'd want one."

"It's perfect," I shouted in excitement as I ripped into the box. How did he know?! Ever since I was a little girl…

Across the office Sarah gave a similar shout of excitement. Lucky girl: Adam got her knitting needles.

* * *

"Marry me." 

I sighed and leaned into Danny's chest as we sat on his sofa. "Hmm," I contemplated. "Okay."

"Good." No need to say more.

* * *

Saying goodbye was one of the hardest things I ever had to do. "An-and Miranda, make sure you take good care of my fichus," I sobbed as I dropped things into my crappy little cardboard box. 

Miranda coughed. "Carly. You don't have fichus."

"Oh." I frowned. "Well then you should get one for me, and then take care of it."

"Only if you name it after me," Miranda replied.

"For the last time will you stop calling my unborn child an _it_?" I shot back, transforming from sobbing to angry in seconds, nay, milliseconds.

Miranda rolled her eyes. "I was talking about the fichus."

I was suddenly sobbing again. "Oh. Okay." I hugged her. She looked as though she wanted to stab me in the abdomen. Good thing I was pregnant, or else she might have. I turned to Sarah and Adam. "And you two, just make sure- make sure…" I screwed up my face in thought. I really had nothing to say.

Adam handed me a small box. I quickly opened it, my unfinished sentence quickly forgotten and my sadness turning to curiosity faster than you can say "bumble-bee." "Aww," I sighed. Yep I was crying again, except this time Sarah was too. "An itty-bitty baby hat."

Adam smiled proudly. "I knitted it myself." Hmm that explained why it was so ugly. I loved it all the same. Tears were pouring down my face now. "Don't be sad," Adam sighed as he patted my tummy. Hmm… I liked being patted on my tummy; made me feel like Buddha.

"It's not that," I replied, still all drippy. "It's just the hormones, and the puffiness and I really need some chocolate." As if out of nowhere, Danny produced a Hershey's bar. "I wanted almonds," I sighed, crying even harder. A second later a Hershey's almond bar was in my hand. Danny was getting good at this stuff…

* * *

"How's the witty-bitty baby," Adam cooed as he rubbed my tummy. 

I coughed and stepped away from him. "Adam? You do know I haven't been pregnant for like the past three years, right?" He'd had trouble coming to grips with the whole situation. I think he'd become quite used to me being pregnant. Eh. After three children, who hadn't?

I smiled at Adam as he blushed and Sarah Gold-… Sorry. Adam blushed as Sarah _Shuster_ berated him for his embarrassing mishap. Oh, I hardly cared if I was a bit curvier than normal. And it was an honest mistake. Now that Adam and Danny had a new masochist secretary to take my spot and Miranda had moved to Bermuda with some fancy sex-cult, I hardly ever saw Adam anymore.

Danny on the other hand I saw daily. I saw him every morning when I rolled out of bed to the sound of shouts from the kids in the adjacent room. I saw him in the morning as he sipped his coffee in between sloppy kisses when the children's eyes were averted. I saw him every afternoon when he wondered into the apartment and smiled like he'd just found a million dollars. I saw him as he rocked out on the air guitar with Timmy, our eldest son; and the time that Tommy, the second one, accidentally set his hair on fire; or when he played lightsabers with Adam, our little boy. I saw him as he watched from the doorway as I told my three little boys the tales of Mr. Darcy, and Professor Wallace Tremor III, and Larry the six legged octopus, and Adam the Lunatic.

And they laughed… all four of my brooding, dark haired boys.


End file.
